Superman
by Chronically Lazy
Summary: Just once in a while, would it kill for the villain to get the girl?


**Superman**

He wiped the blood off his blade with the palm of his hand and slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers. Before she could move he pressed his hands firmly against the wall at either side of her, trapping her between the wall and him. "You expected me, did you?" his warm breath tickled her ear as he whispered in a low, hoarse tone, "You wanted _me_." Grimmjow slid his hand down the wall and to her waist "in more than one way." He could feel the tension in her muscles as he wrapped his arm around her wrist and pulled her hand down from his chest with his other hand. She was trying to pretend she wanted to resist him, how cute. "Don't worry; I'm here to rescue you." He traced the light pink lines running across her neck.

"Fuck off." She said firmly. He pulled away from her sharply and grinned, revealing those sharp, ivory daggers that both terrified and intrigued her.

"You're at my mercy, so I suggest you learn how to talk to me." He said with that knife-grin that caused her to tremble slightly.

"Fuck. Off." She repeated slowly and coldly as she undid the belt of her gi. She flung the white shirt to the ground and pulled up her light green tank top to reveal that darkening bruise on her left side. "_You_ did this to me for no reason, and I should show you respect? Fuck you. That's my message to you. You did not come to save me; you came to make sure there was enough of me left to torture you fucking coward."

In a fraction of a second his hand was around her neck, his nails aligned perfectly with those pink lines that had just begun to fade, "Don't mistake me for Kurosaki." Her insubordination only made things worse; he liked to pretend that it angered him, but in reality it only made him want her more.

"Even if I lost all my senses I would not. He is my boyfriend after all."

Grimmjow pressed his lips against hers forcefully. There had been one day or two when he had gotten her to doubt her relationship with that substitute shinigami. At first, he did it to amuse himself but as he got to know her he found that he wanted her for himself. The first day had been in the dojo and although he kissed her first, she had kissed him back for a fraction of a second and just as quickly as she slipped she regained her senses and pushed him away. Honest to God he had not seen her throw that punch, but he did see her jerk her hand away quickly and immediately he knew that the cool droplets trickling down his cheek was not his blood but hers. Was it sick that that turned him on?

Tatsuki pushed him away forcefully; she was too smart to punch him again. Grimmjow looked at her silently, his grin picking her apart mercilessly. She did not understand that it was her fault, did she? She had led him on with her kindness and insistence that they could be friends, that she could find his lost 'humanity' – she did not have to say it; he knew her type: the kind who was always trying to fix people and fix things. Except, there was something else about her; she was brass and steel, silk and fire, angel and demon all rolled into one and it turned him one like fuck. Things were much simpler and easier when he would not even have spat on fire to put her out, when she was just another of Kurosaki's friends he intended to mess with for a while before killing. They were 'friends' for almost a week before he began to follow her. At first he would just shadow her occasionally – out of boredom, then one day she was almost hit by a car and he used that as an excuse to begin following her every day: he called it protectiveness although he knew that it was possessiveness. He was a territorial being by nature and if it was not 'protectiveness' it would have been something else. That was when they began to fight; the fact that she never knew if he was around irritated her to no end but he did not give two shits because he had warned her and _she_ was the one who refused to listen. We all have to take our medicine sometime and deal with our choices.

One day, out of the blue, he hit her. It was not entirely out of the blue, but for him it seemed unexplainable because he did not remember processing the thought or telling his arm to move. It was the first time he had felt any remorse what so ever for laying a hand on someone and today she reminded him, painfully, of the fact that he had taken advantage of the fact that he was stronger than her. It was not his fault though; like he said, he was territorial and months of rage at seeing her and Kurosaki together was bound to spill over somehow, it was sad that she had to take the brunt of it. Only if she had not laughed, if she had taken him seriously and not laughed in his face, thinking it was a joke – why would he joke about demanding she leave that orange-haired idiot? – But she did think it was a joke and he completely lost it because next thing he knew she was on the ground. End of the story, end of any chance he ever had.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned around. He was thinking of killing her, of watching her life slip from underneath her eyes and pulling her soul to Hueco Mundo. Today he had almost hit her… again. One day he would finally get round to killing her, and how sweet a day that would be.

Grimmjow was not a hero nor savior; he was a villain through and through and he would remain that way because he knew right beneath the surface she was tired of heroes and their moral bullshit, which was why even though he had walked into that dojo that afternoon with a giant scar across his chest and bright blue hair, even though she knew he was nothing good, she allowed him to stand in for her late sparring partner and, for just a bit, her boyfriend.


End file.
